Late Night Calls
by Rainnboots
Summary: When Evan comes home with a goose egg on his head and a story to tell, who else would fix him up but Hank? Brotherly loving, with a damsel in distress thrown in. Rated for language.


**Author's Note:** Howdy! So, this is my first Royal Pains story. I've seen one and half episodes of the show, but it's already caught my attention. I hope I've done an accurate job at writing out Hank and Evan; I love the brotherly banter they share in the show. Enjoy!

**Reviews:** Yes, please! But please, no flames. If you really didn't like it, just be on your way.

**Disclaimer:** Royal Pains belongs to it's rightful owner (which is not me), I'm simply writing out fiction about it for my own entertainment.

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"OW! Oh, shit...."

Hank woke with a start, whispered profanities disturbing his sleep. He brought his face out of the pillow and squinted into darkness, barely making out the silhouette of a person in the middle of the room.

"Where the hell'd the bed go?"

There was a loud 'CLUNK' and a intake of breath, another profanity hitting the air.

"There it is."

"Evan?" Hank said quietly.

"Yeah?"

"What time is it? Are you just getting back?" asked Hank.

"Lots of parties to crash in the Hamptons tonight."

"You alright?"

"I'm fine, go to bed."

"You sound like you're in pain,"

"I'm _fine_, Mom," Evan said sarcastically. Ignoring him, Hank flicked on the lights, Evan squinting under the sudden, harsh lights.

"Whoa, what happened?" asked Hank, the grogginess now gone from his face. He walked to Evan's side, pulling Evan's face toward him so he could inspect the wounds.

"It's just a few bumps," said Evan, pulling his face away and trying to wiggle away from Hank. Hank pulled him back, running his hands over the cuts.

"What happened?" Hank asked again.

"Got in a little bar fight, I'm fine, really."

"You don't look fine,"

"Well, I am." said Evan. "Can I go to bed?"

Hank grabbed onto Evan's upper arm, keeping the annoyed man in place.

"Let me look at you," said Hank, meeting Evan's eyes. Evan sighed, but obliged, Hank carefully pressing against his cheekbones. He smelt the light alcohol on Evan's breath, the scent of cigarettes that he didn't smoke on his clothes.

"That hurt?"

Evan shrugged. "A little. Not enough to be broken. My wirst hurts like a mother, though."

Hank nodded, feeling around through Evan's hair. Evan hissed and recoiled, Hank drawing his hand back.

"Sorry," Hank muttered. "Is your vision blurry or do you feel sick or dizzy at all?"

"Little dizzy, but I can see you fine."

"You have a slight concussion..." Hank mumbled to himself. "You gonna tell me what happened?"

Evan took in a breath, as if preparing his story.

"I was at this bar, Seven or something, and there was this girl. Tiny girl, she barely looked old enough to drink. She was just sitting by herself, then this guy comes up."

Hank searched through his bag, pulling out bandages, gauze, and alcohol swabs. He pulled an ice pack out of the fridge, wrapping a dishcloth around it.

"Big guy, buzzed and cocky, kept trying to talk to her. She was real uncomfortable, but she was trying to be polite and get herself outta there."

"You sit on the bed, it'll be easier to patch you up. And hold that on your head," said Hank, pushing Evan down on the bed and pulling out a chair, Evan taking the ice pack and continuing his story.

"He wouldn't leave her alone, so I went to help her out."

"You tried to rescue the damsel in the distress?" Hank asked, tearing open an alchol swab.

"Hey, I got the guy to leave her alone," Evan defended. "He just didn't leave me alone. And this was a _big_ guy, two-hundred pounds at least. He punched me, I punched him back, he kicked me, punched me again, threw me into the bar..."

"In other words, he threw you around like a rag doll."

"Basically."

Hank nodded, placing a bandages on Evan's forehead and moving to his hand. "What happened to the princess?"

"She left during the fight," said Evan.

"Can you move your fingers?" asked Hank. Evan slowly extended his fingers, wiggling them slightly.

"Not like she missed much, just the ass-whooping of my life." said Evan. Hank chuckled lightly, wrapping the gauze around Evan's hand.

Evan winced, "Do you have to do it so tight?"

"I can't x-ray it so I can't tell if it's broken. This will help keep the bones set so you won't hurt it anymore."

"...So it does have to be this tight,"

"Yes, it has to be this tight."

Hank held the gauze in place, ripping off pieces of tape with his teeth and pressing it on the bandage.

"How's the head?" asked Hank.

"Throbbing with a vengeance." said Evan, readjusting the ice pack on the lump on his head.

"Take these," said Hank, handing Evan two small pills and an open water bottle.

"Thanks," Evan said as Hank repacked the supplies he had used.

"No problem." said Hank, zipping up his bag as Evan stripped to his boxers. Hank switched off the light, crawling into bed.

"I'll wake you in a few hours, make sure you're concussion hasn't gotten any worse." said Hank, yawning.

"Looking forward to it." said Evan. "'Night."

"Good night."

"I love you,"

"I like you."

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Reviews, if you please.


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